My Chemical Romance  The Early Years
by loki-dokey
Summary: This is my beginning of the birth of My Chemical Romance! It all begins with Frank in high school, and then a new family move into the house next door...


So this is my beginning of the most incredible band on earth - My Chemical Romance! Don't forget to write a review, and more parts will be uploaded asap. I DO NOT OWN MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE.

**Franks POV**

The clock just didn't seem to be moving. I swear it hadn't moved for half an hour. Maybe it had stopped? No. I was just bored out of my mind, waiting anxiously for the end of school. I tapped my pen on my desk subconsciously, until the person beside me punched my arm out of annoyance. Ignoring the throbbing pain, I stared blankly at the front of the classroom, where the teacher was rambling on about something to do with Shakespeare. English was so god damn boring. In fact, school was just plain shit to be honest. I slumped on the desk and buried my chin on my crossed arms. My eyes closed slowly and I tried to go to sleep. I was nearly snoozing when something sharply tapped my back. I looked up and saw the teacher's angry face glaring down at me.

"Mr. Iero, am I boring you? Sit up straight and pay attention!" she said in her awful, screeching voice. I winced and stretched. She huffed and strutted back to the front of the room and continued teaching. I glanced at the clock again and smiled when I saw there was only twenty minutes left of this crap. I turned my head slightly to look at the back of the room and watched as Jasmine tucked a strand of her long blonde hair behind her ear. Damn she was hot. She was also the love of my life. Not that I was the love of hers. Heck, she didn't even know who I was! I was invisible to most people.

"Mr. Iero, turn around!" came a familiar screechy voice from the front of the room. I rolled my eyes as I turned back to see the teacher frowning at me _again_.

Finally the bell tolled and I shot out of the room and down the hall. I darted into the practice room and closed the door behind me. Sighing in relief, I got my guitar out of its case and strummed a couple of chords. Playing guitar was my thing, my hobby, my _life. _When I strummed out a good chord, it was like an orgasm. But I longed for more. Somehow, my acoustic guitar wasn't enough. It just didn't hold the sound I desired. My dream was to have an electric guitar and to be up on stage with my own band. But that was just a dream. It would never actually happen.

I played some tunes and sung to a couple of songs I had written. The practice room after school was the only place I could truly bang out a song really loud. When the clock struck half four, I left school, guitar case in hand. I caught the bus, which smelt like piss, and got off at the stop closest to my house. Which meant I had to walk a mile. As I walked down the near-empty street, I looked at the run-down houses of my neighbourhood. Sure, New Jersey was the shits, but it was home. I kicked a can off of the sidewalk and threw open the gate. Opening the front door, the smell of pasta hit my nose and I smacked my lips. It had taken a while for my dad to accept that I was a vegetarian. Luckily mum didn't mind cooking veggie meals. I chucked my bag on the sofa and hung my jacket on the hook.

"Mmm, smells great mum," I said as I walked into the kitchen. She turned and smiled.

"Hey honey! Good day at school?" What a stupid question. When is it ever a good day? Some days I just want to end it. But that's not what mum's ever want to hear.

"It was great," I mumbled as I stirred the brewing pasta. Someone was humming in the other room. I left the pasta to mum and went to see. My heart leapt when I saw my grandfather sitting at the dining room table reading the paper. He looked up at me and his yellowing eyes crinkled as he grinned.

"Frankie m'boy!" he chuckled and I hugged him tightly.

"Hey Gramps." It was so great to see my grandfather again. He had been up in Canada for a while with his friends.

"So how are you, son?" I sat down in a chair.

"I'm good I guess. I've got even better at guitar." I saw his smile drop ever so slightly. He had always wanted me to take after him by being a drummer, but it had never been for me. The first time I picked up a guitar, I refused to put it down since.

"That's excellent! Why don't you show me?" he asked. Of course, I wouldn't turn an offer to play my guitar down!

**Gerard's POV**

The car window was refusing to go down. It was stuffy and I was so god damn desperate for water that I kept trying to conjure up extra spit in my mouth to swallow. Didn't do much fucking good though. I slumped back in the scratchy seat, giving up with the window.

"You alright, Gee?" Mikey asked as I panted. "You look kinda drained…" I managed a laugh through my dry throat.

"That's because I fucking am!" I groaned, hitting the seat in front. My dad grumbled at me and I sat back again. "Why can't we just stop for a minute? I need a piss and a drink! Is that too much to ask?"

"Charming," my mum chuckled. "Gerard, we'll be there in ten minutes. You can get a drink then. And just cross you're legs or something. I told you to go to the toilet before we left." Cross my fucking legs? What the hell? Bullshit mother crap. Mikey could sense my inner cursing and he patted my shoulder.

"Calm it bro."

"Sorry, I just didn't want to move. I'm pissed off we're moving to an even shittier part of town to be honest."

"Yeah well, deal with it," my dad cut in from the drivers seat. "We needed to move because of my job, ok?" Ignoring his input into the conversation, I shut my eyes. I had so many lyrics floating around in my head; I had no idea which ones to keep and which ones to just throw away. I began humming a little tune to one of the songs to keep me occupied and to keep my mind off of how uncomfortable and in need of a long piss I was.

**Frank's POV**

A car pulled up outside next doors house. The house had been for sale for like, forever. Finally people were moving in! I leant on the window sill, watching as a family piled out of the car. The man and woman immediately went to unpack the trunk, but the eldest of the two boys dashed inside so fast I didn't even get a proper look at him. The younger boy stood awkwardly on the path, his glasses askew and his hair a mess. He was tall and scrawny, with deep set eyes and a sort of 'lean'. He didn't stand straight. His hands were deep in his pockets; his foot was tapping to a song he was obviously humming. His father called him to help and he dawdled over to the car. The older boy was outside again, and this time I got a proper look at him. His nearly shoulder-length black hair was greasy and limp, and his face was pale and drawn. He wasn't scrawny and thin like the other boy; he was more rounded and short. He ambled slowly over to help his folks and when he dropped a suitcase on his foot he yelled.

"FUCK IT!"

I laughed at his outburst and at the fact his parents didn't seem to make anything of it. However an old woman across the street heard the cursing and dropped her bag of trash in shock. I giggled again and decided it was time to stop perving on the new neighbours.

**Gerard's POV**

My foot throbbed from the accident and I was still cursing under my breath. We had managed to move the entire luggage inside and mum was cooking up something good in the kitchen. Finally, something to look forward to. I was crashed out in a chair, flicking through a Batman comic when Mikey flopped down beside me.

"Bit of a shit hole, isn't it?" he mused, looking around at the piece of crap that we now had to call home. I shrugged and continued flicking. "There's a plus side though," Mikey piped up. "We don't have to share a room any more. We can have our own!" I was relieved. This definitely was a plus. No more Mikey Sleep Talk or Mikey Dream Flailing! Awesome.

"Aw sweet!" I said as I jumped up to check. Sure enough, Mikey was right. However the one on the ground floor was bigger. Immediately I fell on the bed.

"Hey-" Mikey began.

"Get out of my room."

"Oi that's not fair I chose it fir-"

"Get out of my room."

"Gee come on I-"

"Get out of my fucking room!" I said with defiance and finality and Mikey angrily slammed the door. Smiling, I checked out the entire room, finding places where I could hide things like doughnuts and Mikey's comics. I hauled my suitcase into my room and started unpacking. I stuck my Black Flag posters up and also my Misfits ones. Comic strips now covered my walls along with merch from my favourite bands and my artwork. A small desk in the corner of the room proved to be the perfect place to set up my art studio. Finally I was almost unpacked when there was a knock on my door.

"Piss off Mikey," I called but the reply I got back was not the voice I was expecting.

"Erm, it's not Mikey. I'm Frank, from next door?" I huffed and picked my way through my cluttery mess to the door.

**Frank's POV**

The door began to open but as it did it got stuck on something behind it. The boy kicked whatever was blocking the way and the door swung open. He smiled a friendly smile as he put out a hand, the other hand brushing greasy hair from his eyes. They were deep set just like his brothers.

"Hey, I'm Gerard Way," he said as I shook his hand.

"Hi, I'm Frank Iero," I replied. "Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, it's just I thought I'd introduce myself."

"Oh no, you didn't interrupt anything! I'm just sorting out my shit." He waved an arm in the direction of his room. Then I saw the Misfits posters.

"You're into the Misfits? No way! Me too!"

"Really? They're awesome, huh?" Gerard smiled and invited me into his room. I looked around and took everything in.

"You're room is so cool man!" I said in awe. "Woah, did you draw this?" I asked, pointing at an incredibly detailed superhero on a piece of paper stuck to the wall.

"Yeah," Gerard said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I like to…draw stuff." I walked around admiring his art collection for a bit, with Gerard standing awkwardly by the door still.

"You should become an artist or something," I suggested.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that. Maybe illustrating stuff or something." Gerard flopped down on his bed and put his hands behind his head.

"So you're from next door?" he asked.

"Yeah. So what made you move here?"

"My dad. He got a job offer at one of the top New Jersey Auto Dealer services to be the manager, which turned out to be in this area, so we had to move." He frowned. "I didn't want to fucking move…" he mumbled to himself.

"Well it's not that bad here. You'll get used to it, trust me." I knew from experience.

"Sure…" he mumbled again. "Hey how old are you?" he asked.

"Fifteen. You?"

"I'm nineteen. Just. My birthday was on April 9th."

"Mine's October 31st."

"No shit! Halloween? That's so fucking cool!" He was sitting up now, grinning. I blushed at his sudden reaction.

"Yeah, I was thinking about maybe getting 'HALLOWEEN' across my knuckles as a tattoo when I'm older." Gerard shivered.

"Man, you've got guts. I have some serious phobia of needles of anything sharp and pointy. I could never get a tattoo."

"Really? A phobia of needles? Man, it's spiders that scare the shit out of me. And small spaces. I'm really claustrophobic." It was true, I was. Once I had been stuffed in a locker at school and was left there for an hour. It had been hell. And to make it worse, when I had looked up in the top corner, I saw a spider sitting there in web. Seriously, I had almost shit myself. Gerard flicked his stereo on and the Misfits blasted out. Then I spotted a guitar sitting against his cupboard door. My jaw dropped. It was an electric.

"…You play?" I managed to say through my awe.

"Nah, not really. I know how to play some notes though. I mainly have it to help me when I write songs." He picked up the guitar and plugged it in to an amplifier that sat next to it. After a few moments of thought he strummed out a C chord and then a D chord awkwardly. I giggled at him silently.

"That's an awesome guitar. It's my dream to have an electric." Gerard looked up and smiled. He held out the guitar.

"Really? You sure?" I asked, my hands itching to play. He nodded and I took it, holding it in my hands like it was the most precious thing on earth. I began to play a song I had written called 'Yesterday', and Gerard sat listening intently. I couldn't believe I was finally playing an electric guitar. It was amazing – the sound, the feel of it, everything. When I strummed the last few notes Gerard clapped and whooped.

"Geez dude…you're fucking amazing! How long have you been playing for?" I blushed again.

"Erm, four years now." Gerard was about to speak when the door opened and the scrawny, messy haired boy from earlier poked his head in.

"Hey Gee, dinner's nearly ready." Then he noticed me. "Oh hey, who are you?"

"This is Frank Iero from next door. He's one hell of a guitarist," Gerard replied on my behalf. The boy walked in and shut the door.

"Then it was you who just played that song? Shit, that was amazing! I knew it couldn't have been Gee, he's not _that _good!" Gerard shot him a look and the boy smiled back at him evilly. The boy walked over and stuck out his hand. "The name's Mikey by the way." I shook it and smiled at him. That was the beginning of a very long, solid and amazing friendship that would carry on for the rest of our lives.


End file.
